


In Which Sollux Captor Has His Grubcake And Eats It Too

by Runan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Masturbation, Xeno, slight Sollux/Karkat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runan/pseuds/Runan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes being a mutant freak has unexpected benefits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Sollux Captor Has His Grubcake And Eats It Too

You were slouched in your computer chair, idly browsing through some of your gaming forums, checking for new replies. Nothing, nothing, nothing...fuck, you were bored. A quick glance at Trollian confirmed what you already knew--none of your friends were online. Probably because it was some ridiculous time of day and they weren’t, you know, insomniac mutant freaks. Even KK’s ever present icon was dim.

You sighed and sat back, raking a hand through your hair. Ew, god, when had you last used the ablution trap? You couldn’t remember. The last few days had blurred together into a jittery haze of coding, gaming, and energy drinks. Now your thinkpan was finally starting to slow down again, but you were still too twitchy to hit the recuperacoon.

Of course, there _was_ one sure-fire way to tire yourself out, but...

Your hand is already drifting towards the zipper of your jeans, but you pause, grimacing, torn between conflicting desires. Getting yourself off meant acknowledging your most disgusting mutation, and the guilty shame was sometimes enough to kill any pleasure you might get from it. As long as your clothes stayed on, you could at least _pretend_ you were a normal troll.

There was a reason you didn’t have any mirrors in your hive.

The prospect of stimulation has already got your bone sheath feeling uncomfortably tight, though, so you levitate yourself out of your chair and tug off your jeans. Then, steeling yourself, you look down.

Your bulges are coiling lazily between your legs, leaving faint glistening trails in their wake. You’ve seen enough porn to know that they’re each a bit thinner than the average, single, _normal_ bulge, and you’ve spent more time than is maybe healthy envying the trolls in those videos. _They_ didn’t have to hide their bodies, and did they even have any idea how _lucky_ they were, and you wish, god, you wish that you--

You shut your eyes and wrap your hand around your bulges, squeezing them together a little too tightly. Gritting your teeth, you force yourself to relax your grip. This was supposed to be enjoyable, for fuck’s sake.

You take a deep breath, and then slowly start to move your hand, working up a rhythm. It’s kind of hard, because even though you can control the general movements of your bulges, they still twist and curl around and they never seem to want to go in the same fucking direction.

As if on cue, your lower bulge slips out of your fingers, and you open your eyes as you bite back a curse. Of course this would happen just as you were starting to relax. You reach down to re-capture it...and then hesitate, struck by a sudden idea.

What if...what if you just concentrated on one of them? Would that work? You are so fucking sick of trying to wrangle both of them at once, you can’t believe you didn’t think of this before.

You close your eyes again and lean back in your chair, adjusting your grip on your uppermost bulge and focusing on the sensation of contact. Yeah. Yeah, okay, this was good. Your lower bulge trails aimlessly across your thighs, and that feels kind of nice too, in a different way. A pleasant heat begins to bloom between your legs as you start to stroke, your hand gliding smoothly along from the thicker base to the narrow tip, slick with your natural lubricating fluid.

Tilting your head back, you let your mouth fall open slightly as your breathing rate picks up. The pleasant heat is spreading, coiling through your abdomen in slow waves, and you run your thumb along the small ridge on the underside of your bulge. You could never really do that properly before, and the sensation startles a choked gasp out of your protein chute. Immediately you do it again.

You lose yourself in a pleasant haze for a while before you gradually become aware of a different feeling--an increasingly insistent throbbing beneath your second bulge, and there’s a new stickiness on your hand when you swipe it lower. Your nook is starting to produce its own lubricating fluid now, and it’s leaking out onto your chair.

This has happened the last few times you jerked off too, and academically, you know it’s because your body is maturing and getting ready to pail. It’s never been this intense, though, or this...drippy.

You’ve never messed with your nook before, because you’ve never really had a reason to. Stroking your bulge--bulges--had been plenty good enough. Besides, even the most retarded wriggler knew that nooks were for pailing other trolls, not self-pleasure.

Something’s changed now, though. The hand on your bulge still feels awesome, but...it’s not quite enough, somehow. You shift in your chair and try speeding up a little, panting, your other hand clenched tight around the armrest. There’s sweat beading on your brow. The waves of pleasure are making it hard to think, and yet it still isn’t enough. You’re stuck on some sort of plateau, and you groan in frustration.

Your second bulge is twisting restlessly, and you’ve almost resigned yourself to grabbing it again when it suddenly curls backwards and flickers across the opening to your nook.

Your vision explodes in a brilliant burst of sparks. Literally.

Dimly you’re aware that you’ve thrown your head back and pulled your knees up, your toes curling around the edges of the seat. There are some truly stupid noises coming out of your mouth, and you think every single one of your neighbors can hear you but you don’t care.

You repeat the movement, deliberately this time, and giddily decide that yes, this is totally going to be a Thing in every subsequent jerk off session.

An insistent ache reminds you that your other bulge still needs attention, and you start pumping it again. It’s hard to concentrate on moving your bulges separately, especially in your current state, but somehow you manage it and oh _fuck_ it feels incredible, so much better than it ever has and--

You are totally unprepared when your lower bulge gives a sudden spastic twitch and plunges deep into your nook.

You jerk backwards in shock and nearly tip out of your chair, just barely catching yourself with a quick burst of psionics. Then you hiss because ow ow _ow_ , it fucking _hurts_ , you’re tight and over-stretched and aching, and if _this_ is what you have to look forward to you are never having sex with anyone, ever. Panic begins to well up inside you, because you want it out _now_ but your bulge seems determined to stay where it is--your breath is coming in short little pained gasps as you try to move it without stretching your nook even further--

You’ve managed to pull your bulge a few painful inches back out when it hits...something...inside you, and the resulting spike of pleasure is so intense it sends your eyes rolling up in your head. For a moment you can only slump in your chair, bemused and panting, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar new mix of pleasure and pain. Already the pain is starting to fade, though, and you bite your lip before--slowly, warily--pushing your bulge back in.

Pleasure assaults your senses, moving out from your groin to sizzle along your nerves. The feeling of something up your nook is still a little weird, but it’s one you could definitely get used to, and you scoot your hips further down the seat so you can put your feet up on your computer desk. Then you begin thrusting in earnest.

This is so fucked up-- _nobody_ does weird shit like this, not even in porn, but hey, you’re already a freak of nature. Might as well enjoy some of the perks.

The hand on your upper bulge had stilled, so you start to stroke again and oh god, yes, _this_ was what you’d been missing earlier. You spread your legs a little more, knocking a few issues of _Game Grub_ to the floor, your sweat-sticky skin peeling off the chair as you shift.

Pre-genetic material is oozing in a steady stream from your nook, and your lower bulge now slides easily in and out in time with the pumping of your hand. You roll your hips a little, panting with effort, your head lolling against the backrest and your fangs digging into your lip. There’s a steady pressure building in your groin as you work for release. “Pleathe,” you gasp, “oh fuck, _pleathe._ ” You have no idea who you’re begging, but the words tumble from your mouth regardless.

_Ping._

You blink stupidly through the static haze of pleasure in your mind.

_Ping._

Oh for _fuck’s_ sake, one of your idiot friends _would_ decide to troll you now.

_Ping._

_Ping._

_Ping._

You try to ignore it, concentrating on the feel of your bulge sliding against the walls of your nook and hitting whatever it was in there that was making you see stars.

_Ping._

“Uuuugghh.” Groaning, you reach out with your psionics to answer whichever asshole is bothering you.

**TA: what the fuck do you want.**

**CG: WELL LOOK WHO FINALLY DEIGNS TO ANSWER.**

**CG: I’M SO GLAD YOU DECIDED TO GRACE ME WITH YOUR GREASY UNWASHED PRESENCE.**

**TA: KK iim bu2y fuck off.**

**CG: GEE, WAY TO MAKE A GUY FEEL ALL WARM AND FUZZY.**

**CG: I KEEP FORGETTING WHAT A PLEASANT EXPERIENCE TALKING TO YOU IS, THANKS FOR THE REMINDER.**

Your lower bulge is writhing inside you and the other is pulsing heavily in your hand. You grit your teeth, determined to end this quickly.

**TA: the feeliing ii2 mutual now can you plea2e get two the point.**

**CG: UGH, YOU’RE IN ONE OF YOUR MOODS AREN’T YOU. SERIOUSLY, WHAT CRAWLED ITS WAY UP YOUR NOOK AND EXPIRED.**

...You’re almost tempted to tell him. Almost.

**CG: LOOK I JUST NEED YOUR HELP WITH THIS STUPID CODE, OKAY?**

**CG: THEN YOU CAN GO BACK TO FANTASIZING ABOUT RIDING MY BULGE.**

As soon as the words appear on your screen, you can’t not think about it. You suddenly imagine Karkat beneath you as you straddle him, rocking your hips up and down. You wonder if his bulge is thicker than either of yours and what it would feel like inside you and oh god, you are not going to be able to look him in the eye for _weeks._

**CG: ...WOW, THAT DEFINITELY WASN’T A WEIRD THING TO SAY AT ALL.**

**CG: UH**

**CG: FUCK, WHY DOES EVERY CONVERSATION WITH YOU INVOLVE AT LEAST ONE INSTANCE OF ME WANTING TO GO BACK IN TIME TO MURDER MY PAST SELF FOR ALLOWING ME TO TYPE SOMETHING SO EMBARRASSINGLY STUPID.**

**CG: HELLO? ARE YOU EVEN STILL THERE? OR AM I JUST THROWING WORDS AT A VACANT SCREEN LIKE AN IDIOT?**

You’re not really paying attention anymore. You’re too busy imagining the feel of Karkat’s calloused palms where they dig into your hips, holding you steady as you move. The part of your thinkpan that isn’t clouded by lust is screaming _ABORT ABORT 2iiTUATiiON CRiiTiiCAL 2ollux are you 2eriiou2ly fanta2iiziing about your be2t friiend like thii2_ , but you’re used to your brain not getting along with itself so you ignore it.

You’re close now, your nook fluttering spasmodically around your lower bulge while your hand pumps furiously along the upper. Then your mind replaces your hand with Karkat’s and that’s it, you’re done, yellow liquid spurting from your nook in viscous waves as you ride out your orgasm.

When you finally spiral back down into the realm of coherency, you can only sag in your chair and wheeze. The sweat is cooling uncomfortably against your skin. Holy shit. That was...holy shit.

_Ping._

**CG: HEY DOUCHEBAG, ARE YOU STILL ALIVE? OR AM I GOING TO HAVE TO GO OVER THERE AND PEEL YOUR SLOWLY MUMMIFYING CORPSE OFF YOUR KEYBOARD?**

You stare blearily at your husktop screen. Then you snort with sudden amusement. Your fingers are a bit...sticky, so you use your psionics to tap out a reply.

**TA: je2u2 KK calm your tiit2 ii’m 2tiill here.**

**CG: OF COURSE YOU’RE STILL THERE, YOUR SKINNY ASS IS PRACTICALLY GRAFTED TO THE FUCKING CHAIR AND IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE YOU DECLARE YOURSELF IN QUADRANTS WITH YOUR HUSKTOP.**

**CG: WILL IT BE FLUSHED? PALE? ALTERNIA NEEDS TO KNOW, CAPTOR! STAY TUNED FOR MORE NEWS @ NO ONE GIVES A FUCK.**

Normally Karkat’s words would piss you off, but right now it’s like you’re still floating in some kind of giddy bubble--your earlier sour mood has completely evaporated. You can also feel your exhaustion rapidally catching up with you, and you yawn.

**TA: ehehe you 2eem awfully iintere2ted iin my love life.**

**CG: HOW CAN I BE, YOU DON’T HAVE A LOVE LIFE TO BE INTERESTED IN. PRO-TIP: INANIMATE OBJECTS DON’T COUNT, NO MATTER HOW MUCH GENETIC MATERIAL YOU’VE DEPOSITED ON THEM.**

You sputter with amusement, and hesitate only briefly before replying--but you just can’t resist. Really, it’s not your fault KK’s giving you all these great openings! Snickering, you mind-type your reply, then stand and stretch on slightly wobbly legs. Time to hit the ‘coon before things get _really_ awkward.

**TA: that remiind2 me, thank2 for the help there.**

**\-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --**

**CG: YOU’RE WELCOME, YOU UNGRATEFUL BUCKET STAIN.**

**CG: WAIT.**

**CG: WHAT.**


End file.
